Broken
by mockingjayfelicis
Summary: Finnick returns from a trip to the Capitol feeling dirty, used and broken, and Annie is the only one who can make him feel whole again.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I was planning for this to be a oneshot but I may consider turning it into a multi-chapter fic if it gets positive reviews.**

**If you have an Odesta prompt that you would like written, please feel free to message me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. All credit goes to Suzanne Collins.**

I sit in the back of the taxi cab, looking out at the clear blue sky and the gentle turquoise waves and the soft golden sand. I'm home. Finally.

My head is pounding. I've consumed more alcohol in the past five days than I ever thought possible. I always think that if I get drunk, maybe I won't remember it as much. But I do. I always remember.

My hair is a mess. So many strangers have run their hands through it since the week began while forcing me to please them that I just stopped taming it after a while. I ran out of clean shirts to wear so I had no choice but to put a used one on this morning. There is a foreign stench clinging to it. Perfume. Tacky, tasteless perfume that found its way onto the fibres of my clothes when I was serving its wearer.

My eyes are red. Partly because I was out late working every night. Partly because when I returned to my hotel in the early hours of the morning, I couldn't sleep. Instead, I cried. Cried because of how much pain I was in, because of how much I hated Snow for making me go through this horrid ordeal, and because of how much I missed Annie.

Annie. She'll be at home, waiting for me. We live together in my house in the Victors' Village, next door to Mags. I don't want her to see me like this. Not yet. I need to wash and shave and burn this disgusting shirt before I can even think about laying a finger on my precious, beautiful Annie.

The cab driver picked me up from the train station and is taking me home. He's in his late forties, with a plump belly and a balding head. He hasn't stopped talking since I got in the car. I haven't really been listening. I don't want to engage in conversation. I'm too tired to talk. I just want a shower and a very long nap.

"Fishing season's coming up," the driver announces in a cheery tone. I give no response. "They're hiring for fishermen down at the boathouse. My Charlie's going to apply. He's always wanted to be a fisherman. He'd be a good one too, what with his strength and stamina. I used to be a fisherman. Not anymore, mind you. This heart condition of mine wouldn't survive the rough waters. You'd be a good fisherman, Mr Odair."

I snap out of my train of thoughts as soon as I hear my name. "Huh?"

"You'd be a good fisherman. You're young, fit, and you've got your health."

"Oh..." realising that the cab driver is talking about nothing important, I turn my attention back to the window. "I guess..."

"Mind you, I don't suppose you need a job. Doubt any of you Victors do. You've got enough money to last you your whole life..."

I close my eyes and the driver's voice becomes muffled. I need to get out of this car. I need to go home. I take a deep breath as the taxi comes to a halt. I open my eyes. We're at the entrance to the Victor's Village.

"Here you go, then," the driver smiles. "I'd drive you right up to your house but I'm not allowed past the gates."

"It's not a problem, really," I take a tightly folded note out of my back pocket and hand it to the driver. "Keep the change."

The driver's eyes light up at the money. "Thanks, Mr Odair!"

I grab my bag, scramble out of the car as fast as I can, and quickly close the door. The cab drives off and leaves me standing up at the vast iron archway which marks the entrance to the Victors' Village. I take another deep breath. I just hope Annie's not home.

I walk the short distance to our house. I climb the front steps, every muscle in the lower half of my body aching, and gingerly open the front door. Everything is quiet.

"Annie?" I call, closing the door behind me and dumping my bag on the ground.

I hear noise coming from above. And then Annie hurries downstairs, a delightful smile spread across her face.

"Finnick!" She reaches the bottom of the stairs and runs towards me, arms outstretched, still grinning joyfully. "I missed you so mu..."

I cut her off by stepping backwards, out of reach of her hug. Her smile disappears.

"Don't touch me, sweetheart," I say in a deep, pained voice while raising my hand a little. "I'm too dirty."

Annie looks upset. "You're not dirty, Finn... I know that what they make you do isn't your fault."

"Sweetheart, I'm not clean enough for you to touch me yet, okay?" I tear off my shirt, so vigorously I send one of the buttons flying across the room. I hand it to Annie. "Can you put this on the fire for me?"

"What?"

"The fire," I wave the shirt at her again but she still doesn't take it. "I need this shirt to go on the fire, I need to burn it, it has to be burned!"

I can feel my eyes stinging with tears.

"Why?" Annie asks quietly, looking like she may start crying herself. "Why does it have to be burned?"

"WILL YOU JUST TAKE IT? PLEASE, just take it..."

My voice quietens from a shout to a whisper as the tears escape from my eyes and my body starts shaking, still holding the shirt at arm's length.

"Oh, Finn..." Annie takes the shirt from me and enters the living room. As I hear the fire roar with the extra material it has just been presented with to engulf, I unsteadily sink down onto the bottom stair. I've started crying harder, and my breathing is becoming more and more constricted.

Annie comes back into the entrance hall and sits down beside me on the bottom stair. She wraps her arm around me. With another wail, I rest my head in the crook of her neck as she tenderly strokes my bare upper arm.

"It's alright, Finnick," she whispers. "You're home now."

"Pl-please don't l-leave me..." I struggle to say through my hysteric crying. "Please..."

"Sssh..." Annie soothes, kissing the top of my head and gently rocking me. "I'll never leave you, Finn. I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you for the reviews so far. I've had a few requests to turn this into a multi-chapter fic. I've added this chapter but this will be the last chapter I'm adding as I don't really like writing multi-chapter fics. I prefer writing oneshots/drabble. Sorry to disappoint anyone who was after a long story :( Feel free to PM me an Odesta prompt, though, and I'll be more than happy to write you a oneshot. Thanks again for the reviews/favourites :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. All credit goes to Suzanne Collins.**

I've managed to calm down. Hearing Annie's soft, calming voice reminded me that I'm not there anymore. The touch of her delicate skin and the scent of her smooth, clean hair allowed my breathing to return to normal and my tears to stop.

My eyes are even more bloodshot than they were before. I sit on the bottom stair, my head in my hands. Annie slowly draws large circles on my bare back with her palm. I am silent.

Annie stands up. This causes me to jolt in panic and turn my head towards her. She holds her hand out to me. I take it and stand up. Together, we start climbing the staircase until we reach the top, and then Annie leads as we walk towards the bathroom. I'm not sure what we're doing. All I know is that I trust Annie and need her close to me.

She closes the bathroom door behind us, and I watch her as she turns the shower on. She tests the water with her hand to make sure it's at the right temperature, and then she comes over to me and holds both of my hands in hers. We look straight into each other's eyes.

"It hurts me that you think you're dirty," she says in a quiet voice. "So I'm going to help you feel clean again."

I take her left hand and slowly bring it up to my face. I place a tender kiss on the back of it, then hold her palm to my cheek, stroking her porcelain skin while I tilt my head to the side.

"I love you, Annie."

"I love you too, Finn," she whispers back, a beautiful smile emerging on her face.

I release her hand and she turns round, scooping her long, red hair over her shoulder to reveal the zip of her dress. It's a stunning ivory colour, covered with an intricate lace pattern. Taking my time, savouring the moment, I bring my hands up the back of her neck and slowly undo the zipper that goes all the way down to the bottom of her back. I remove my hands and the dress slips effortlessly from her shoulders and onto the floor.

She rotates back to face me. She's barefoot, and all that's left is her underwear. I take off my shoes and socks, unbuckle my belt and remove my dark blue jeans.

I'm naked now. But I don't feel scared or exposed. I feel comfortable. Because I'm with Annie. The person who I love more than anyone and anything in this world, and the person who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I'm not in the Capitol now, pretending to be attracted to a vile-looking millionaire with stencilled skin and vulgar beliefs. I'm not locked up in some swanky hotel room, being forced to pleasure a stranger while all the time I'm crying inside. I'm home. I'm with Annie. I'm safe.

I reach out and find the familiar curve of Annie's waist. We move closer together and exchange smiles. But they're not smiles that say, "I think you're hot" or, "Let's have sex". They're more than that. They say, "I love you".

I slip my thumbs beneath the seam of her panties and carefully pull them down. She steps out of them, leaning on my shoulders for support. Then we enter the large walk-in shower holding hands.

We kiss as the water soaks us. Our arms envelop each other, until it feels like we're no longer two separate people, but one being, one soul, cut off from everyone else and protected from the evil of the world by our love. Our kiss breaks, and we stand with our foreheads resting against each other's, smiling as our hair and bodies become drenched.

Annie reaches for the bottle of seaweed-scented shower gel and lifts it from its holder. She squeezes a generous amount of the light green liquid into her cupped palm, places the bottle back in its holder, and rubs her hands together until the liquid becomes a thick, white foam.

Then, she places both of her hands on my chest and ever so gently starts rubbing in small circles, spreading the warm soap all over my torso. I watch her as she attends to my neck, shoulders and arms, never rubbing the soap in too aggressively or hurriedly. She keeps a slow, even pace as she applies the gel over my stomach and then crouches down to see to both of my legs. She stands up again.

"Turn round," she smiles at me.

I feel my entire body relaxing as she applies the soap over the muscles in my back. I let out a sigh of relief. The repetitive motions are soothing and the scent from the soap is comforting.

When she's finished, I let the water wash away the leftover soap from my body, and we venture into a kiss once more. It's passionate, but at the same time, delicate and pure.

Now it's my turn. I squeeze a large dollop of the seaweed shower gel onto my palm and rub my hands together to create the frothy soap. My hands find Annie's chest. I caress the curve of her breasts as the white foam trickles down them. I massage her shoulders, and she rolls her head back and closes her eyes. I lather her arms, stomach, and lean down just like she did to reach her legs. She turns around on cue and I start applying the soap to her back. I tickle her right at the bottom of her back, on a spot that I know she finds sensitive. She giggles, which makes me smile, and then turns back round to face me.

She wraps her arms around my neck and I do the same to her waist. She places her head on my shoulder and I rest my head against hers. We sway slightly for what seems like hours, holding onto nothing but each other. I don't ever want to let her go.


End file.
